Storm Clouds

By Yvonne Jordan

Storm and Sydney lived the idyllic life, three children and two dogs, with both Storm and Sydney having successful careers. Nothing could cloud this simple ordinary family’s perfect life. Or so they thought. After all Sydney had a thriving bookstore which she loved passionately, and Storm was a well- known attorney with a prominent practice. Then the unthinkable happened and their world became darkened. Storm was missing. He did not come home from his business seminar. Maybe the world Sydney thought she knew did not exist. Is he dead? Is he really missing? Or Did he just abandon them? The amazing turn of events in this book will have you spellbound as the truth unfolds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781728324616

Yvonne Jordan

My name is Yvonne Jordan. I grew up in a small rural Georgia town. I have been reading books of various types since I was a little girl. My dream has always been to write and publish a book. I graduated from high school, attended college with both an undergraduate and graduate degree. I started my book writing process during that time, however, could not seem to finish it as I would have liked. Then I attended law school in the state of Michigan and have been practicing as an attorney since. As time passage and maturity levels increased, I felt now was the right time to complete my goal of becoming an author. Storm Clouds is a fictional, contemporary novel with a dash of romance. I hope you enjoy reading it as I have enjoyed writing it.

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Copyright © 2019 Yvonne Jordan. All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  08/29/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-2463-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-2462-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-7283-2461-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019912527

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter    1

Chapter    2

Chapter    3

Chapter    4

Chapter    5

Chapter    6

Chapter    7

Chapter    8

Chapter    9

Chapter    10

Chapter    11

Chapter    12

Chapter    13

Chapter    14

Chapter    15

Chapter    16

Chapter    17

Chapter    18

Chapter    19

Chapter    20

Chapter    21

Chapter    22

Chapter    23

Chapter    24

Chapter    25

Chapter    26

Chapter    27

Chapter    28

Chapter    29

Chapter    30

PROLOGUE

He came awake with a shudder. There was a beeping noise coming from his left. Why won’t someone turn that alarm off? Disoriented, Storm tried to locate the sound as he hit downwards into thin air. Bad move Storm, he told himself. The pain was so excruciating it felt as if his head was going to explode. Inch by inch he slowly attempted to open his eyes. At the first glimpse of light, Storm began groaning and grabbing his head. The annoying clamor was instantly forgotten. Thoughts began racing through his mind. What in the world is going on? Where is all this pain coming from? Not that I am a heavy drinker, but this has got to be one hell of a hang over. During his struggle to get up, Storm heard footsteps running towards him.

Mr. Storm! Mr. Storm! You must remain still, said an excited voice on his left, rushing into the room due to the patient monitor alerting them to activity in the room.

Nurse Brassell, hurry and get Dr. Smith. He’s going to want to see this. Hurry! Nurse Meeks; help me to restrain him. Mr. Storm, please lie still. You have been through a terrible ordeal. The Nurse implored as she and Nurse Meeks struggled to hold Storm down.

Out of breath, Storm collapsed back onto the bed. He didn’t attempt to open his eyes again because of the pain. He felt a prick on his left arm. Storm was too exhausted to acknowledge the pain. Besides, with his head aching the way it was, all other pains were nonexistent.

Mr. Storm, my name is Nurse Marshall. Dr. Smith is on his way, as we speak, to talk to you. We have been waiting for this moment for a long time. I know your head probably feels as if a ton of bricks is weighing it down. Let’s see if we can change that, Nurse Marshall stated as she began swabbing a section on Storm’s left buttock with alcohol. All the Nurses, overseeing this room, had been previously told that if this patient were to come out of his coma, for them to have the Demerol on hand for the massive head pain he would encounter.

Now, I just gave you a shot of Demerol so the pain should ease within a few minutes. Just keep your eyes closed until the pain subsides. Can you understand me?

Storm tried to say yes but what came out sounded like a croak. He then tried to say, water but his throat was aching to the point where he could hardly speak.

Mr. Storm, please do not try to speak. If you understand me, squeeze my hand.

Storm weakly applied pressure to her hand.

Good! I don’t want to give you anything further until the doctor sees you. Right now, however, I am going to go and get you some water to help ease the dryness in your throat. Okay?

Again, Storm applied pressure to her hand.

Oh, here is Dr. Smith now. I am going to leave you in his capable hands while I get that water I promised you.

Nurse Marshall was so engrossed in her conversation with Storm, and Dr. Smith was so intent on getting in the room to see his previously comatose patient that neither of them noticed the man standing at the door who had suddenly taken an intense interest in the events that were unfolding in Storm’s room.

Not that they would have paid any attention to the man had they seen him because he was an average looking, non-descriptive man with one of those faces that was easily forgotten. He wore khaki pants, a striped polo shirt and Italian loafers and carried a newspaper under his arm. This was part of his decoy. He made sure to always walk as if he was on a mission; mainly because he was always on a mission, and also to prevent unwanted questions and to cut down on suspicions, of course.

Unknown to the staff at the Center, this man had been hanging around there on and off for a few months now. He always played it safe. He knew the rules of the game. He knew to come to the Center at different times of the day, and it was always during those times when the employees were changing shifts. If any of the staff had noticed him, they would have easily mistaken him as someone visiting one of their relatives. He avoided eye contact, and he never asked questions of anyone. That was not his method of operation. Besides, up to this point he was able to get all the information he needed by just sitting back and watching. It required no activity at all to witness what he needed to see, especially with all the commotion going on in the room he just passed. He couldn’t believe how easy it was to outwit the unsuspected, nor how lackadaisical the security was around here. Hey, but that was not his problem. Their inadequacy was a benefit to him, because today his long wait had finally paid off.

Unobserved, the man casually walked over to the phone located a few feet away from Storm’s room. He punched in some numbers on the telephone and waited.

A few minutes later a voice on the other end answered, Yeah.

The man responded, He’s awake. He then replaced the receiver and left the hospital, discarding the newspaper in the garbage on his way out. His job was complete.

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Hi, Storm. Dr. Smith stated as he continued walking into the room.

"We’re glad to see you’re awake. You have caused quite a stir around here. I know you are probably wondering where you are. We’ll get to that in just a bit. My name is Dr. Jon Smith, and I have been overseeing your treatment throughout your stay here. Later I am going to perform some tests on you, but first let’s see how you are feeling.

Okay, good. Now, can you understand everything I am saying to you? Dr. Smith questioned Storm. This was to resolve whether Storm’s brain injury caused any cognitive effects and if so, the level of severity.

Storm attempted to give the thumbs up sign indicating that he understood.

From your chart I see where Nurse Marshall notated that you are experiencing severe head and throat pain. With the Demerol the Nurse gave you, the pain in your head should have subsided by now or is in the early stages of easing off. Determining from Storm’s expression that he was listening, Dr. Smith continued.

Your throat is going to feel a little raw, which you already know if you’ve tried to speak. This is because you have not used your vocal chords in a while. I will have the nurse bring you something to relieve the pain, which should clear up that soreness right away. Until then I want you to try to minimize your talking as much as possible. Also, the rawness of your throat is caused from dryness and lack of use, so after you drink a few sips of water and with this medicine that I am going to give you, your throat should feel a little better.

Also, since you have been inactive for a while, you are going to feel some tingling and nerve pains in your upper and lower extremities. Of course, those pains are intensified now as a result of your struggle to get out of the bed earlier. We’ll take care of that soon enough. Is the pain in your head easing? Wait! Before you speak let’s save your voice for a few minutes. Dr. Smith said before Storm attempted to reply.

Why don’t you try to squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no? Dr. Smith said, not realizing that this was the same technique Nurse Marshall had used earlier in communicating with Storm.

Storm squeezed it once.

Okay, good. Now, I want you to try to open your eyes. Slowly, so that they can adjust to the light. Dr. Smith had previously ordered that the room light be turned off but there was enough sunlight streaming through the windows for Storm to see without having severe pain.

Flowers everywhere. That was the first sight to greet Storm’s eyes. It was almost like being at a nursery; there were so many. There were yellow, red, pink, and white tulips just to name a few. Unbeknownst to Storm, he had become one of the Center’s favorite patients. He later learned that some of the nurses on the Center’s staff had periodically brought flowers in as they sat and talked with Storm on their breaks.

He then noticed pictures on the wall, like those found in most hotels or businesses. Glancing slowly around, Storm noticed that he was in a room with huge windows surrounded on the outside by rose bushes. With so many roses around, the windows seemed invisible. It was like his bed was placed in the middle of a flower garden. Bees were swarming in and out of them. He could practically hear them buzzing. It was such a beautiful sight; no one would have thought that Storm could feel as bad as he did, or that he was in a hospital.

Of course, reality began to intrude. The beeping noise he heard earlier was a machine measuring his vital signs not an alarm clock as he previously thought. What in the world! He was getting more confused by the minute. On his left was an IV-pole with bags containing two or three different fluids. The tubes leading from the bags were attached to an IV on his left hand. That must have been where the prick came from that he felt earlier. Finally, Storm’s eyes came to rest on the man facing him. He looked to be about Storm’s age, of medium height, auburn hair, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. Judging from the clipboard and the stethoscope, Storm assumed this was Dr. Smith. Upon hearing his voice earlier, Storm had immediately felt a sense of calmness. Dr. Smith had an authoritative voice, which left no question as to who was in charge. Yet, his voice invoked a sense of trust. The doctor was smiling; so what ever happened to Storm couldn’t have been